


The Food of Love

by Soaring_Ren (Robin_Knight)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Friendship, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-07 21:45:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8817358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_Knight/pseuds/Soaring_Ren
Summary: After the war, no one expected for Galra and Humans to exist side-by-side . . . They also never expected a human to fall for an ex-Galra commander. Sendak wanted nothing more than to play his music, while Shiro wanted nothing more than to work with the children in the nursery, and yet together they found that there was so much more to life than work or pleasure. There was love.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skinandbones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skinandbones/gifts).



Shiro gave a warm smile.

The small girl was absolutely beautiful; it was enough to make him wonder how the parents endured leaving her, as every gurgle or laugh made his heart swell with affection, and he continued to pull faces at her in response. Those little hands would come up and clap with awkward movements, while her rosy cheeks would puff out and her eyes would close, and – on a few occasions – she was so excited that she would nearly fall backward.

Shiro caught her with his natural arm, while his prosthetic – still awkward to get used to the sensation – slowly raised to stabilise her once she was back upright. The children were always fascinated by the cold plastic; the little girl upon his lap especially adored the limb, already trying to gnaw upon the rigid fingers for some sort of comfort, no doubt the teething process already providing a nuisance to her small frame. It was difficult to pull the limb away from her, particularly as he knew she would cry should he try, but it was a harmless activity.

The nursery was exceptionally quiet that afternoon.

Every parent had collected their child on time, but this one girl remained due to an unexpected accident at their parents’ place of work, and yet Shiro couldn’t bring himself to mind in the least. He heard Coran at the main doors, which were in the process of being locked and shuttered, while Allura reminded him loudly to make sure he manned the intercom for when the parents returned for collection, and – in a far play room – the television set continued to blare loudly with _Sesame Street_ on its screen.

“Shall we go watch your show, Fleur?”

The baby only gurgled around the prosthetic finger. There was a murmur of protest, as he laughed and pulled her up against his chest, but she was comfortable with most of her weight rested upon his organic hand and supported by the prosthetic. He heard all too often from Allura that the easiest way was to hold the baby upon the hip, but it always felt far more natural when they could listen to his heartbeat and fall into a sleep to the rhythm.

Shiro walked into the playroom, where he nearly tripped over a plush bear. There would be a lot for him to tidy up later, while Allura would see to the paperwork and Coran would prepare for the next day, and he already felt an iota of inconvenience at being left caring for the child outside of hours. He gave a small sigh, as he sat cross-legged on the giant play-rug before the television set, and settled Fleur in between his legs where she would be fooled into thinking she was sitting upright on her own. The bright colours and sounds made her happy.

‘ _Shiro, are you busy?_ ’ Coran called out.

Shiro turned his head with a hum of acknowledgement, where he saw Coran in the adjoining kitchen and struggling to undo the baby-gate, and – as the older Altean struggled and cursed in his native tongue with a ‘quiznak’ – he soon fell over the gate with a sense of absolute clumsiness that could be achieved by no other person. The older man stumbled over, while Shiro noticed how his blue-and-white uniform was stained with spit-up and what he hoped was mushy peas, which caused Shiro to laugh despite himself.

“Was that Michael?” Shiro asked.

“Hmm? Oh, this?” Coran puffed out his chest, as he pointed to the stain with a smirk. “I like to consider it a badge of honour for a good day’s work! I don’t know what it is with the children sometimes; you work and sweat over a hot stove, making the most _delicious_ mushy peas the universe has ever seen, and there’s no gratitude there. Well, _I_ thought it tasted nice!”

“I think it’s time we stop providing meals, except for low-income families,” said Shiro with a kind laugh. “It’s a lot of work, especially when the children can be so fussy, and it’s time and money we could spend elsewhere. What do you think? Is it worth it?”

“Ah, that’s a good question.” Coran pinched the edge of his moustache. “It’s something to discuss with Allura most definitely, but that’s not actually why I came over. I thought you ought to know that Lance, Pidge and Keith are currently in the staff-room. Oh, I know what you’re thinking -! Rest assured, I turned on the wi-fi for Pidge and brought in refreshments for our Lance, so everyone is nice and contented. It’s nice to see them happy, eh?”

Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose. He lowered his head with a sigh, as he thought to his friends that would currently be taking up space in the staff-room, and – while he always appreciated and adored their company – there was something frustrating in having his workspace treated like a hangout spot after hours. Keith had always been welcome; the young man often needed a quiet space away from his roommate, but somehow that had eventually expanded into Keith’s new friend, then her friends . . . the only one missing was Hunk.

“That’s fine, Coran,” said Shiro. “Do you mind watching Fleur while I see to them? I know you have a lot of work to do still, but I would rather make sure that they don’t get too out of hand. The last thing we need is another food-fight. Allura is still picking out pieces of cheese and spaghetti from the strangest of places, and we can’t risk mice around children.”

“No problem, at all! I have a good thirty of your Earth minutes perfectly free, so I have lots of time to smush and love this little one! You know, I’m always surprised you haven’t settled down yet yourself; I bet Sendak would be happy to carry a wee one of your own, eh?”

“He – he doesn’t want to take the time off work,” said Shiro.

The differences between Galra and Earthling biology were still difficult to comprehend, especially in practise and when it came to certain bedroom activities, but Shiro really didn’t have the same ‘openness’ that his Altean colleagues had around . . . well . . . everything. He felt himself blush around the raised scar on his nose, while he carefully stood to his feet and slid the baby into Coran’s waiting arms. It was a heart-warming sight, as the baby tried to babble Coran's name and reached out to him with eager arms.

“You’re a natural,” said Shiro.

“I always did want one of my own.”

“There’s still time.” Shiro placed a hand upon his shoulder. “I know you had no reason to care about my friends as you do, but you’ve been a fantastic role-model and someone they can always depend upon. I’ve seen the way you act with the children, too. Just know that – even if you don’t become a biological father – you’re still an amazing father to us all.”

Coran looked away with a sad smile and a slight blush. There was a slight sheen to his eyes, which almost broke Shiro’s heart, but the smile to his lips was sincere, while he bounced the baby so gently – and with such expertise – that Shiro knew Coran would always find happiness in his purpose as a caretaker. Shiro thanked him with great sincerity, before he rustled the baby’s hair and walked quickly away to the staff room.

It was a short walk, but the scent of baby lotions and talcum powder was heavy in the air, and – as Allura walked by him – he noticed the black bag in hand and nearly retched at the smell of soiled diapers that would need to be disposed. Allura gave him a pointed look and half-smile, as she commented light-heartedly on how she always got the dirty jobs. He shook his head and paused outside the staff-room, where he typed in the code on the keypad and looked down out of habit, in case a child had gotten free and tried to get inside.

He entered with a quick movement.

The room was decorated mostly to human fashion, as Shiro started the day-care straight out of college and before the Alteans immigrated to Earth, and – soon after they joined him as employees and later co-owners – they left personal touches about the room. Coran had placed personal photographs along the walls, tastefully and tactfully placed, and Allura brought plants to liven the area and a large cage with four Altean mice. The photographs were a particular joy to look upon, as they held so many strong associations.

There were several of Allura’s father, before he passed away during the war, and many of Allura and Coran together, as they celebrated various occasions. There were also many of them in various groups and combinations, such as Allura huddled up with Shiro and Keith or Coran leaning upon Lance’s shoulder, and there was – much to his absolute delight – a photograph of his wedding with Sendak. He always smiled on sight of his husband.

“Yo, Earth to Shiro,” called Lance.

Shiro looked away to the table centre of the room; Pidge was hunched over her laptop and typing with a furious speed, while Keith sat on the windowsill behind her and looked out over the fenced garden beyond, and Lance sat astride a chair and rested his head on its back. It was clear they were comfortable, as they had made themselves at home with a stack of pizzas centre of the table, and a part of him gave a sigh as he wondered how students afforded such food on a meagre budget. Shiro came and sat at the table beside them.

“How long are you guys here?” Shiro asked.

“Like, as long as you’ll let us?” Hunk appeared in the doorway with a nervous grin. “Sorry I’m late, but Allura said to come straight through. I’m not too late am I? I hope not. Still, looks like I’m in time to get some pizza! Did you get half-Hawaiian and half-pepperoni?”

“The first one on the pile,” said Pidge without looking up. “That’s the one with the stuffed cheese crust and the honey-dip, too. You also owe Shiro ten bucks and Keith five; seriously, next time you guys organise a pizza-night, you might want to finish paying the host of the previous pizza night. Speaking of which, where’s Sendak? I miss his complaints.”

“Oh, well, he – er – has work in the studio,” muttered Shiro.

Shiro slid next to Pidge, as Hunk threw himself into the seat beside Lance, before opening the top box and removing the pot of sauce and a large slice. The aroma was absolutely delicious; Shiro caught the scent of spices pretty heavily, while the cheese was enough to nearly tempt him into a slice, but he promised Sendak that they would have a romantic Galra meal together. Galra cuisine was usually heavy on meats, with more sauces and seasonings than he could sometimes abide, so filling up in advance would be gastronomic suicide.

“He still works as a musician?” Keith asked.

There was a sudden silence; Hunk slurped a little on the melted cheese, which slid from the base and burnt his chin, and Lance reached out and freed him of the cheese with two long fingers, before taking it for himself and enjoying the bite. It was oddly intimate, more reminiscent of two lovers than friends, but Keith reacted with an eye-roll and turned his body fully around to face Shiro in a direct manner. Shiro clasped his hands in his lap.

“Yeah, I think he’s targeting the Galra demographic,” said Shiro.

“Yuck! Seriously?” Lance pulled a face. “Like, I know we’re supposed to be cool with the Galra and all, but – come on – you _do_ remember what his race were up to, right? It’s all well and good being a part of the Voltron Alliance and all, but they _wiped out_ Allura’s people!”

“Aw, sheesh, not this again,” murmured Hunk.

“Actually, Lance has a point.” Pidge paused in her typing and said: “Zarkon is pretty much the reason why Alfor _died_ , and it’s just sheer luck that Coran and Allura didn’t die alongside him. We were at war, Shiro. They had an empire! I can get the whole ‘moving on’ thing and co-existing as part of the Alliance, but am I supposed to forget what they did to my _family_?”

“No one is saying to forget about the atrocities that happened,” snapped Keith. “If anything, we need to always remember them lest we repeat old mistakes. I just think that Hunk and Shiro get rightfully frustrated, because you guys always make it seem like _every_ Galra was some sort of evil monster. Sendak was a commander out of a survival instinct. He killed no one, even when it was in his power to kill, and he’s paid his debt to society.”

There was an abrupt silence. Shiro heard the baby cry from afar, while Coran sang a song in his native language that was hauntingly beautiful, and – along the corridor – Allura buzzed in the parents and laughed with them over some shared joke. A breeze picked up speed outside, which caused a stray branch from a tree to strike the windowpane in a rhythmic manner, and it recaptured Keith’s attention and caused him to look away. Hunk busied himself eating a second slice, while Pidge paused in her typing and let her fingers hover over the keys.

It was a difficult conversation to have; Sendak was forced to stand trial along many of his colleagues, before he was found innocent and regained his freedom, but the racism and discrimination lingered on past the trial’s end. There were those like Pidge who still lacked closure on their loved ones’ whereabouts, whereas those like Allura who knew no amount of ‘justice’ would bring back their family, and Shiro could understand their pain.

Lance reached out for a smaller box underneath Hunk’s, which – when opened – revealed the cheesiest garlic-bread that Shiro could ever imagine, and the stench of the garlic spread through the room enough that Keith was forced to open a window. Shiro shook his head with a smile. He adored his friends, even despite their culinary quirks, but he knew that Allura would be furious once they cleared out and it was up to the older adults to clean up after them, especially when the smell often made Coran somewhat nauseous.

“So – er – what’s his music like?” Lance asked.

There was a sharp laugh from Pidge. It was easy to forget that sometimes she could be a little sharp, which especially included any topic where Galra were concerned, and – with a few clicks of the touch-pad and various keys – the speakers bore forth the most horrendous noise that Shiro had ever heard. The sound was actually painful; it sounded like an instrument like a saxophone or trombone, while the vocals were extremely high-pitched like a screeching cat, and – when combined with the fact it was all in the Galra language – it was comprehensible.

“Oh my God, what _is_ that?”

“That –” said Pidge “– is Sendak’s latest album.”

“Well turn it off,” snapped Lance.

Pidge gave a sigh and pressed the off button. Shiro – admittedly curious – leaned over to his left and rested his organic hand upon the edge of her chair, as he looked at the screen and saw the comments section of the video alive with various languages. Those in English and Japanese were mostly trolls or rather harsh criticism, but the Galra comments appeared complimentary, at least insofar as his rudimentary understanding could follow. Keith asked:

“How can you stand that?”

“I – er – honestly _don’t_ stand it,” said Shiro. “I had a migraine for nearly two days after he last tried to serenade me with a song dedicated to me, but . . . well . . . I haven’t the heart to tell him that it just sounds like noise to humans. He seemed so proud of what he wrote, too, even called it ‘The Food of Love’ from the Shakespeare quote.”

“That’s the least romantic thing ever,” muttered Keith.

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Lance asked. “Educate us, O’Great One.”

“The full quote is: ‘If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it; that surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die’. The quote's about a guy in love with someone that doesn’t love him back, so he’s expressing a desire that he might rid himself of love forever.”

Pidge clicked a few keys, before she confirmed him correct. There was a low groan from Lance, which was cured only by Hunk putting a slice of pizza to his lips, and – true to character – Lance took a bite and then took the slice in hand. Keith turned to face them directly, leaving the garden and play-equipment out of sight, and he simply clasped his hands between his legs and watched his friends in their interactions. It was a more comfortable silence before, interrupted only by Hunk as he slurped the grease from his fingers.

“Well, that’s a bummer,” said Hunk.

 _‘In all fairness,’_ came a voice, _‘your poetry is hard to comprehend_.’

There was a wince of embarrassment from Hunk, as he gave an awkward smile and scratched at the back of his neck, and Shiro – recognising that voice anywhere – spun instantly around and felt his eyes water with the sensation of sheer love. Sendak was home. Shiro stood to his feet, as he tried to feign a casual interest, but he could not prevent the blush to his cheeks and the smile to his lips, as he walked slowly over to his husband with a racing heart.

Sendak stood in a black one-piece suit; the style was very similar to his previous uniform, emphasising the fact that black-and-purple was a fundamental part of Galra aesthetics and fashion, and it clung to him in all the right places. There were thigh-high metallic boots, along with a matching belt and shoulder-high glove on his organic arm, and miraculously the loss of his cybernetic arm had caused little trouble in adjusting to life outside the empire. His natural yellow eye was half-lidded with interest, while his smile was with a closed mouth.

“I didn’t expect you back so early,” admitted Shiro.

“I had some good news that I wished to share with you,” said Sendak. “I can see that your . . . _friends_. . . are quite well-occupied with the consumption of cheap and processed foods, as such I am sure they can spare you for a few moments. May I steal you away?”

There was a low groan from Pidge, followed by a sigh from Hunk and a scoff of amusement from Keith, and Lance – halfway through a slice and a piece of bread – just looked around the room with a sense of strange confusion. Sendak reached out to Shiro and placed a furred hand upon his cheek, before he stroked across the scar upon his nose with a soft-padded thumb, which provided great reassurance and warmth. Shiro leaned into the touch.

“Do you even need to ask?” Shiro teased.

Sendak gave a small grunt of amusement, before he reached down to place a chaste kiss to Shiro’s forehead. There was a slight tickle of fur upon skin, while the touch itself was warm and firm, and Shiro – as he stood up on tiptoe – leaned back his head to press his lips to his husband in a gentle kiss. He pulled away before it could become something more intimate, even as he ignored the pretend retching noises from Lance and coos from Hunk, and turned to his friends with a deep blush and hand over his lips in slight embarrassment.

“I’ll be back in a while, I promise,” said Shiro.

Sendak stood by the door with his organic arm outstretched. It was mostly for show, as they knew well enough the general animosity for Galra and Human relationships, but the judgement from friends and family felt more . . . personal. Sendak was never abusive or cruel, but he was admittedly far more direct and less prone to standing on Human customs, and this was something that often came across as ‘rude’ or ‘problematic’ to those unfamiliar with his habits. Shiro followed him into the corridor and closed the door behind them.

There was a brief moment of silence between them.

It was a comfortable sort of quiet, enough that Shiro let his shoulders sag with relief, and – as he turned to face his husband head-on – he felt an intense sense of gratitude that they found each other through the pain and trauma of war. He leaned into Sendak, relishing the strange scent that was uniquely Galra, and felt a strong arm lock around him, as the large hand held onto his hip with a firm hold. Sendak always swore to make amends for his past, while Shiro always swore to help them both move forward, and – together – they found great comfort.

They stood together for a long moment, simply relishing in the embrace, until Shiro pulled back and took Sendak’s hand in his, as he pulled his husband along into a nearby office with a warm smile. The office itself was cramped and filled with various boxes of paperwork, while Coran had also managed to store various Altean items with sentimental value, and every crook and corner told the story of the three owners’ lives.

“Hmm,” said Sendak. “Do I tell you enough how beautiful you look?”

Shiro gave a sincere laugh. He closed the door behind them, as he pulled down the blind on the glass panel and sat down before the computer desk. Sendak sat opposite, with legs apart and arm rested upon his knee, and he cocked his head to the side with an impassive expression that marked a curious observance. They were opposites in so many ways, yet they shared the same quiet nature when it came to others, happy to just watch the world go by and the people within it, and yet never quite fully understanding those that lived there.

“I’d prefer the term ‘handsome’,” teased Shiro.

“Ah, but that does not do you justice.” Sendak gave a dangerous smirk. “I just finished working on a song that I thought you may enjoy. It will likely never top the human – what do you call it – _charts_ , but I feel it will be popular with the Galra people. This office has a device to play the song, does it not? I would be honoured if you would listen.”

Sendak stood slowly and made his way to the music player. He removed a small device from his belt, much like a memory pen for a computer, and inserted it into a strange machine upon the desk that belonged to Allura. There was – almost at once – a sound of various instruments seemingly competing with one another, followed by a voice that was almost like a screech and interrupted by possessive purrs hard to decipher. Shiro felt the beginning of a headache.

“It’s – er – nice,” said Shiro.

Sendak allowed what might have been a verse to play, before the chorus set in and he closed his eyes with a serene smile, and the finger of his organic hand moved up and down in a strange sort of rhythm. It struck the wood of the table with its pad, while the claw moved forward after to make a click in turn, and – in a strange sort of way – it was an oddly catchy sort of beat only truly possible from a Galra musician. He eventually heaved a long sigh, before he removed the device and slid it back inside his belt.

“This style is highly popular,” said Sendak.

“Is this from your _Food of Love_ album?” Shiro asked. “I will admit that I don’t quite understand the Galra style, but I can appreciate the effort you put into the song. It’s amazing how – ah – high-pitched the Galra voice can become . . . I can honestly say I’ve never heard you make any noises like that outside of the bedroom. Should I be jealous?”

There was a loud laugh from Sendak. It was kind and in response to the gentle teasing, and – as they locked eyes and held each other’s gaze – Shiro could see the warmth and affection that emanated from every pore of his husband. Sendak eventually gave a wide smile, as he took a seat opposite Shiro and sat with legs apart in a casual manner. The body suit was quite form fitting, especially without any extra layers over the material, and Shiro felt uncomfortable with his husband being seen in that manner by other people.

Coran laughed from further down the corridor, as Lance’s voice became audible, and it wouldn’t be long before the others would expect his presence. It was nice to be a part of a larger group and a family, but nicer still to have his husband before him and smiling that beautiful smile of which only Sendak was capable. Shiro reached out and took Sendak’s hand in his own; his husband squeezed with a firm hold, as they let their hands fall between them.

“Is this the good news you wanted to share?” Shiro asked.

Sendak gave a soft chuckle, before he pulled his hand away. He struggled to reach into one of the pockets in the belt, but soon managed to remove a small book from a savings account, and – as Shiro looked at the black cover – he realised it was their joint account. They both retained separate accounts, but the joint account was far more convenient for day-to-day expenses and maintaining their home. Shiro raised his eyebrow in curiosity.

“I hope you haven’t emptied the account,” said Shiro.

“That was one time and a simple misunderstanding regarding the exchange rate between various planets, made all the worse by how your planet foolishly has multiple currencies.” Sendak gave Shiro a hard gaze, as if he were responsible for the world economy. “In any case, I would advise you to look very carefully at our latest statement.”

Shiro raised his organic arm to his chest. It was difficult to still his fast heartbeat, as he suspected that something had gone awry for this to even be a raised issue, and already the wind had picked up outside like a bad omen. The office overlooked the gated parking lot, which was occupied only by three cars, and the rain lashed against then so much that they appeared almost grey in the low light. Shiro gave a low sigh, as he took the book into his hand and flipped through the pages until the latest transaction.

“What is this, Sendak?”

“I understand that Galra music is not to your liking,” said Sendak. “I must, therefore, thank you sincerely for your continued patience and constant support. The Galra do appreciate my music, however, enough that I believe I have made enough for us to finally start a family. It may not be enough for a life of luxury, but it is enough for all a child could need.”

The number was certainly extravagant. Shiro blinked several times, certain that he had viewed the number incorrectly, as it was enough to set up a nursery and baby-proof the entire house, with just enough left over to put away for college. It was difficult to hold back the tears, as suddenly the investments in various instruments – along with the sacrifice of so much time spent apart – all felt well worth everything. Shiro looked to Sendak with a bright smile, as a tear fell down his cheek and left a wet mark over the skin.

“You were working for a family all this time?”

“Do not make it sound so sentimental.” Sendak gave a small pout. “If we choose to adopt or use my biology to its advantage, we will need savings to support our offspring. I simply thought that my contribution would make it more convenient. You invested in my instruments, so we can consider this a return on our investments.”

“Don’t downplay things.” Shiro gave a sincere laugh. “This is the most beautiful gift you could have given us, Sendak. I – I just thought you were playing for the love of playing, but this is more than I could ever have imagined. We can finally be fathers.”

“Ah, yes, just promise me that your friends will not baby-sit.”

“Does that include Allura and Coran, too?”

Shiro smiled, as he moved across the office and slid onto Sendak’s lap. The Galra man quirked his mouth into a half-smile, while his eyes ran up and down over Shiro’s body, and – clearly – he was mistaken in thinking Shiro would actually do anything inappropriate in his place of work. Shiro simply gave a sigh and ran his hands through the fur on Sendak’s head, partially to groom it and partially as it felt so nice for the both of them, and it was a small bonding moment through great intimacy. Sendak let out a purr and said:

“I suppose the Alteans would be acceptable caregivers.”

“I hope so, else I made a mistake giving them equal shares of the business,” teased Shiro. “I just can’t wait . . . we finally have enough to have a family! You weren’t just writing your songs for me, but for the children too . . . you were writing for us.”

The fur felt so soft beneath his fingers, but also so different to any other species. It always reminded Shiro of when his hair was longer, back when he spent childhood summers on his grandfather’s farm back home, and that feeling when it rested on warm water, so that it felt impossibly soft and fluid and almost alive. Sendak’s fur moved just the same through his fingers, impossible to predict its movements and so hypnotic to stroke.

“I love you, Sendak,” said Shiro. “I love you.”

There was a low purr from Sendak, as he took Shiro’s organic and prosthetic hands together. He held them well, considering he refused any replacement for his missing arm, and his fingers traced patterns on Shiro’s wrists now held between them, so that his thumb would occasionally brush against Shiro’s chest. He spoke with a low and gentle voice:

“You are foolishly sentimental, Shiro.”

The kiss betrayed his chastisement.

 


End file.
